She had no concept of the passing of time, only the urgency that she escape before dawn, when the killers would no doubt return to resume their body count. She bit into her lip to hold back her tears of grief, determined that they wouldn’t beat her. Only she could tell the stories of the now-dead heroes and heroines who’d devoted their lives to helping others. Only she could bear witness to the atrocity committed here, and their bravery and selflessness would not go unheralded. Not if she had anything to say about it.
After what seemed to be hours, she had uncovered the entire upper half of her body and for a moment she sank down, resting her cheek against the floor as she prepared for the next step. Somehow she had to turn over and sit as upright as possible so she could work on freeing the lower half of her body. Her legs. Her only hope for getting away from this place.
Gathering her strength—and courage—she began twisting her body, wincing as every muscle protested the awkward movement. She felt weak as a kitten. Sweat now soaked her tattered clothing. Between it and the blood coating portions of her body, her pants and shirt stuck to her like they’d been glued on.
Her injured knee would give her the greatest problem. She had to rotate her entire bottom half, regardless of the weight pressing down on it.
Gritting her teeth, she planted one palm down on the floor and twisted her upper body so that her other hand hovered inches above the floor on her other side. She pushed upward, straining, twisting and then gasping as pain splintered through her legs. Both of them.
God, would she be unable to walk after all? Had she broken them both, and was she in too much shock to feel the breaks? The only pain she could identify was in her knee.
Again, she wiggled her toes and feet, seeking reassurance that she hadn’t imagined being able to do so moments earlier. She paid closer attention this time, leaning in an uncomfortable, awkward pose as she concentrated fiercely on whether she felt pain or weakness.
Then the thought occurred to her that the reason she wasn’t feeling pain or weakness could be that she couldn’t feel her legs at all. As soon as the panicked thought blazed through her mind, she shoved it impatiently aside. Irrational, hysterical thoughts had no place here. If she’d been paralyzed she wouldn’t be able to move her feet or know that she was capable of moving them, and she wouldn’t feel the throbbing pain in her knee.
Her fears at a more manageable level, Honor braced herself and stared determinedly at the mound covering her lower half. She was absurdly pleased, and excitement coursed through her veins when she felt the soft whisper of night air over the toes of her left foot. She wiggled again, paying more attention, realizing that they were poking out of the rubble.
A shudder overtook her. Thank God the militants hadn’t gotten close enough to her to see the end of her foot protruding. They would have uncovered her to see if she was dead like the others. Upon finding her alive? She slammed her mind shut, refusing to continue down that thought path. They hadn’t found her. They wouldn’t find her. So there was no need to torment herself with what could have been. She was more focused on what would never be.
Her lips thinning, pressing together in a vow not to allow a single sound past them, she turned her body with more resolve this time instead of the experimental twisting she’d done at first. A grimace shook the line of her lips and she ground her teeth together, her jaw aching from the pressure.
Determination was alive inside her. It took over. Became her. In that moment, failure to make her escape wasn’t even a remote possibility. A pained hiss exploded from her open mouth, her breaths hard as she exerted more pressure, straining rigidly to rotate her hips and legs.
Fire blew down the back side of her legs as they scraped at the jagged edges of rock, metal, wood and glass. Her stomach jolted and squeezed inwardly as if seeking to rid itself of any content when her injured knee banged into an immovable object. She saw stars, and tears burned the edges of her eyelids. It only made her angrier. Her fury grew until she shook with it.